Lovers and Fighters
by nightflutterheart
Summary: Vena has been traveling the world over to fulfill an old grudge. But when her Maker Godric decides to meet the sun, she races back to Dallas like a bat out of hell. Dealing with the true death of her Maker and an existential crisis of her own, Vena will also have to juggle her love/hate relationship with her Vampire siblings and most of all, her unrequited love for Eric. But is it?
1. Chapter 1

_**1: Goodbye, Godric the Gaul**_

Godric was ready to see his first sunrise in two thousand years. He had accepted his fate—no, _decided_ his fate with the sort of ease that belied doubt. Godric would be meeting the sun, and he felt no fear, no regret. Only a strange contentedness as he faced his final adventure.

Strangely, he'd never felt more human than in that moment. Perhaps because he was finally facing his mortality now that he knew that the True Death was imminent. Before he had always observed the sun and it's danger with a healthy measure of respect and fear. Now he thought there wouldn't be anything more beautiful, that there was something so exquisite as meeting the True Death at the rays of the eternal fire. All of his sins stripped and burned away by Solaris. He was ready.

A raven circled the air over him, obsidian wings spread wide as it spiraled above. He closed his eyes, a small smile lighting his features.

The fluttering of feathers. A whispered sigh of magics beyond him. A shift in the air.

"No."

Opening his eyes, Godric turned to the woman standing behind him. His smile grew.

"Vena,"

"Godric," she begged, stepping to him. Her naked skin glowed like moonbeams in the early morning light, her inky black hair catching reflections of blue and purple. Her green eyes were distraught.

"Come," he said, holding his hand out to her. Without hesitation, Vena closed the distance between them, leaning her cheek in his outstretched hand. "You grew out your hair. It suits you,"

Vena let out a choked laugh, twisting a little to place a kiss against the palm of his hand. Her hands reached for his free hand, clasping onto him tightly. "Please, what happened? Why?"

Godric peered into her eyes for a few moments longer. Of all his children, perhaps it was to her that he owed the greatest explanation. She was still so young…perhaps in her he would find his only regret. Regret that he couldn't serve her as he had served his older progenies; regret he had spent such a small sliver of his eternity on her.

He filled her in on the last few weeks. On his decision to walk into the Fellowship of the Sun. She remained quiet, though he felt the simmer of her emotions: anger, confusion, fear, trepidation. Godric explained to her how Eric had come to his rescue, and brought along both vampire and humans along with him. Then he had told her how they had escaped, but that Steve Newlin had retaliated anyway, despite the fact they'd spared the humans.

"I shouldn't have been in Panama. I should have been here. At your side," said Vena. "Not chasing rumors,"

"You were traveling with my blessing, Childe," said Godric. "You were where you should have been. Just as you are now," he paused, letting his eyes run over her. His hands followed, and he ran his hands over her face, tracing his thumbs up over the bridge of her nose, her thick eyebrows and down to her high cheekbones. His fingers whispered over her parted lips, then came to rest at her chin. She wasn't much shorter than him, if hardly at all. He leaned in and rested his forehead to hers. Her lashes fluttered shut, their tips ticking his own.

"My second Childe cannot be here with me, but I will have you and Eric. My first and my final progeny. Somehow fitting, no?"

"I want to hate you for this," confessed Vena, her voice breaking. Her eyes opened; emerald green began to fill with ruby red as tears welled. "But I can't. All you've said…and still I don't understand why. Why?"

"You won't understand for a very long time, I'm afraid," murmured Godric. He smiled sadly at her. "My Maker and I…we were not together for long. I felt more relief than pain when he met the True Death. I should like to think I have been a good Maker to you. To all my Children. And so I am sorry you will have to feel this pain. Don't face it alone, Vena. You and Eric both."

Vena let out a watery cry as ribbons of blood crawled down her cheeks. "Yes. I'll have the Viking to comfort me,"

Godric brushed her hair out of her face. "I am aware he can be…particularly difficult with you,"

Vena scoffed.

"However, he is your Brother and he knows his duty. He will recognize your bond through me, always. He is your Brother, and in my place he will be your guide."

He watched with mild amusement as she fought the petulance welling up at her at the thought of Eric as her teacher. He knew that, had the circumstances been different, she would have argued relentlessly. He did not want to argue with her now.

"How did you know?" asked Godric.

"You called for me," said Vena. At his cocked eyebrow, she sighed. "A _bruja_. I thought…I thought she might show me answers. But her magic showed me you. Burning. I thought it was a distant future…then you called for me, and I knew."

"A _bruja_ ," said Godric. "How fascinating. I have not come across a friendly one in quite a few many years,"

"I never said she was friendly," said Vena. He smiled.

"Even so. I am glad to see you are well. No matter where they hail from, or what they call themselves…witches can be quite the formidable opponents. You remember the _strigoi_ in Belarus?"

"Yes," pouted Vena. "All that trouble she caused me and she didn't even taste nice," Godric chuckled.

They fell into silence, turning to face the east. If Godric was a rock out in the ocean, strong and steadfast, she was the torrential sea around him. He was proud of the control she was exerting over the storm inside of her. Control was not often easy for her, and though her ability to feel so strongly, so humanly had been something he had admired long in her, it had also been something he knew she had to govern.

"I owe you an apology," Godric said finally. Her eyes flickered to him, brow furrowing.

"For? Whatever I feel now, it is not my life to live. That I know, and as…difficult as it is for me, I accept," said Vena. "You are over two thousand years old. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Untrue," said Godric. He watched the cars below as humans began their days, men and women up before the sun as they headed for work. He wondered how many of them were truly happy, how many would one day die satisfied with their little lives.

"I made you a promise I have not kept in its entirety. I promised to help you, as I made a promise to Eric. For a millennium I walked the world with him as he searched for those who had slain his family. I confess I have failed him, too. He has not yet had his revenge, but I helped him for a thousand years. You are still so young, and I feel I have done so little for you,"

"Then maybe you should stay. At the very least, choose a different place. India… Africa… Mexico. Anywhere but _Texas_ ," said Vena with a wistful smile. Then she sobered as she too gazed out at the world below. Vena had no love for Dallas, he knew. There was little of the United States that attracted her, other than the coastal cities for amusement here and there. His desire for the Sheriff post in Dallas had not only confounded her, but bored her. It was one of the reasons he had suggested she take leave, travel on her own a bit as he had. And so she had.

"I like it here," said Godric. "It is not a wonder of the world…but I have made it my own."

"Mhmm," said Vena. Finally she turned to him bodily. "This I will forgive you for in time. But helping me…you've already done so much for me. You have helped me, and you have taught me. The rest is up to me,"

"Still," said Godric. "Still I wonder if I leave you too soon,"

"It'll always be too soon," said Vena. Fresh tears began to fall as her body trembled. "Godric I don't want you to die. Let me burn with you, please. I love you."

Godric leaned forward, placing his lips against her forehead. He stayed there, holding her to him as she cried.

Eric found his Maker waiting to meet the sun with his little sister. Godric stood with his eyes closed, lips pressed to Ravenna's forehead. Neither moved as he approached, stopping just a few feet behind them. He found a familiar scent in the twilight air: Vena's blood. The young vampire was crying, her tears staining the front of Godric's shirt as they spilled.

"Why?" Eric asked simply, though his fury boiled just beneath the surface.

Vena sniffled, pulling away to look at Eric. Eric spared her a glance as he realized she was standing naked. His eyes swept the roof before returning to her; there wasn't a stitch of clothing around to be found. Confusion and suspicion flooded him.

He hadn't seen her in decade or so. To the human eye, vampires didn't change much, because all they saw was that they didn't age. Vampires saw more. They saw that although time would not mar their skin or add wrinkles that would neither shrink nor grow nor gain nor lose weight. They would not tan; they would not grow visibly stronger. But they could and did change. Their aura, the way they held themselves. The eyes—Eric could always tell by the eyes.

The last time he had seen her…shit. The last time he had seen here had been in Paris, in the eights. Thirty years. Had it really been so long? The last time he had seen her, she had fully embraced the big 80s hair trend, letting her long dark locks loose in a mass of curls. Now it was just a little shorter and layered. Those jewel of hers, the brightest green he'd ever come across, shown differently. Bright now from the crying, they were also…burdened. Older.

"Why not? I have lived all I have to live, Eric," said Godric.

"Have you?" said Eric, unconcerned with how despondent he was sounding.

Godric inclined his head. "Two thousand years is enough,"

"I can't accept this," said Eric. Hearing footsteps from the stairwell, he strode over to them, shrugging out of his jacket. He held it open for Vena. "This is insanity,"

"Eric—" began Vena. He silenced her with a look. They all glanced over to Sookie as she reached the roof.

"Our existence is insanity," returned Godric easily. Eric gritted his teeth. His maker's cool, calm tone was making him angry—but also terrified. It was not an emotion he was used to experiencing, only delivering. But he was starting to quickly realize he had no control over the situation, over Godric.

"We don't belong here," said Godric. Vena flinched. Once again her eyes welled up with tears.

"But we are here," refuted Eric, taking another step forward.

"It's not right. We're not right,"

He couldn't believe he was hearing this. "You taught me there is no right and wrong. Only survival or death,"

"I told a lie, as it turns out," said Godric ruefully. He glanced at Vena, who silently shook her head, as though pleading for him to take the words back.

Bristling, Eric spat, "I will keep you alive by force."

"Even if you could, why would you be so cruel?"  
He felt a phantom pain in his heart, as though the long-dead organ had begun beating once more. Aware of the tears starting to well up in his own eyes, and of Vena and Sookie's presence, he turned to his old tongue.

" _Godric, don't do this."_

" _There are centuries of faith and love between us,"_

There was finality, a goodbye in those words. Eric had never felt so scared or so helpless in his thousand years as a vampire. He started to cry.

" _Please…please! Please, Godric!"_

He fell to his knees before his maker, crying like he had not since his human days. He had not cried like this when his human family had died. He had not cried like this for himself when he had thought he might die. He had not cried like this for his people. Next to Godric, a stricken Vena began silently sobbing, quivering in the depths of Eric's black jacket.

" _Father…brother…child…_ Let me go," Godric said softly.

 _Father. Brother. Child._ Lifting his head, resolve thick, Eric said, "I won't let you die alone."

"Yes you will. You both will," said Godric. Eric was overcome with emotion again; he hung his head as he cried. A hand brushed his hair back. It settled at the base of his neck, urging him to look up. When he did, he found Godric holding his hand out to Vena. Silently she moved until she stood by Eric. Then she too was on her knees. Godric's hand settled under her chin as he took turns looking at them.

"As your Maker I command you." He stared between them for a moment longer; his blue eyes shown with adoration and pride, determination and…sorrow. Sorrow for the pain he was causing his Progenies. "Be good to one another,"

His hands dropped away from their skin. Eric rose, as did Vena next to him. Obeying his final command, Eric began walking away. He paused to take one last look at his Maker; he was smiling gently at Vena. Sookie reached for his hand.

"I'll stay with him," the blonde said softly. "As long as it takes,"

Eric found himself nodding. He could feel the day coming on—never had he found himself hating the day like he did in that moment—and stalked away. He was barely aware of Vena just behind him, looking as lost and dazed as he felt.

Soon Godric the Gaul: vampire, Maker, Sheriff, would be gone.

* * *

Welcome to my True Blood fanfic! Well, my first posted one. I just binged the series (more than once) over the past two months, and I'm obsessed. Anyway, I'm working on a long, slow-burn Eric/Oc fic, but this also happened on the side, so, here it goes! Thanks for checking out my story!

Question for the chapter: Did canon characters seem in character?


	2. Chapter 2

**2\. And Then There Where Two**

Numb. Walking down the stairs, away from that roof, Eric felt only numb. His feet carried him and, although he wanted nothing more than to get as far from that cursed roof as he could, he couldn't move any faster than he was then. He forced himself to stop when he no longer heard Vena's footsteps behind him.

She had a hand resting against the wall like she might keen over at any moment, a look of utter bewilderment etched across her features. One hand, overshadowed by the long sleeves of his coat, was pressed over her heart. She looked entirely ridiculous; that look on her face with the tracks of dried and fresh blood, his coat three sizes to large on her slender frame, fallen open and revealing her naked body underneath.

He strode over to her, grabbing the hem of his jacket to zip.

"I—It feels like I'm suffocating," she whispered.

"Impossible. You don't need to breathe.

She looked up at him, pain evident in her features as she winced.

"I think… My heart is breaking."

Eric's eyes flew up sharply to meet hers. For a second he remembered the pain in his chest he had felt only moments ago, on the roof. Then he roughly ran the zipper up to her chin.

"I don't know why you're naked. But I have a room. I will give you clothes and a place to die for the day,"

Vena's eyes searched his; her pouty lips began to quiver. " _Eric_ —"

"Come," he said tersely. Vena fell silent, then followed along after him. He led them straight into the elevator at the end of the hall. As he led them to his room, he tried to think of everything but Godric on the roof. He tried to picture exactly what he had packed, clothes he might give Vena. But as his logical mind took over, it inevitably took him to planning, to what arrangements would come after. And he could hardly stand to think of that now.

He found himself very grateful he would die for the day.

Vena did not get in his way, for once. She only collapsed on an armchair across from his bed, her expression taking on a faraway quality. He wasn't sure where—or when—she was, though knowing her she was likely drawing on happier memories of their Maker. Eric had every intention of getting her clothes, of getting them both washed up, but instead his feet carried him straight to the bed and he collapsed there, unable to do much more than stare at the ceiling.

He had no more blood left to cry. There was only numbness.

They weren't in the room for more than a few minutes when Vena sobbed, her hands clapping over her mouth. She felt it just as he did: dawn was upon them. The first rays were lighting up the sky.

They didn't feel him burn. Godric shielded his pain from them, sending only love through the bond to his children. They only felt him when he met the True Death. Vena cried out alongside Eric as they felt their very being set aflame; then it was gone, and that was worse of all. Their Maker was gone, and so was that bond. There was only darkness, an abyss with no tether.

Godric the Gaul was gone. Forever

Forever. Forever. Forever. Vena realized that she had never grasped the concept of forever until then. Forever had been just a word, a promise of her new life given to her by her Maker. But now that she might face that without her Maker, now that she would never see him again forever… eternity had suddenly become the cruelest gift in the world.

Forever. Forever. Forever.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

She stared at the ceiling of the Hotel Drusilla. She had never been inside it, though Godric had told her of it. The first luxury vampire hotel in the world. He had been so proud of his work in getting it built and funded. She had promised him a trip to Dallas soon just to see it. She hadn't even planned on coming back for another year or so. Godric had been right; though initially she had balked at the idea of being away from him, the months had slipped by as mere weeks.

She regretted her own selfishness now. Had she been here, she would have seen the signs. She would have never allowed him near the Fellowship. Godric had always loved her; she had been his little princess of a progeny, his little vampire. He would have listened to her. _For_ her.

 _I should have been here._

Fire burned under her skin, the fire of sorrow and fury and guilt. She turned her head to the side, to her Vampire Brother. Eric was awake and already looking at her. That dazed look he had worn earlier was gone. His usual cool mask had replaced it. They stared at each other for a long time; Vena wasn't even entirely sure he was seeing her. Maybe he was pouring over his own regrets, wondering if he had been there with his Maker, if he had—Vena's eyes narrowed.

"You knew." She whispered accusingly.

"What?"

"You knew," she repeated, voice quaking with anger. "You knew he was missing and you said _nothing_ to me,"

"Don't," he hissed dangerously. "It was not until I arrived that I even learned you weren't in the Area—that you'd been gone for nearly a year."

She knew the warning in his tone, in his eyes. But she was too hurt, too incensed to heed him.

"So it didn't cross your fucking mind to call me when you did find out? If it hadn't been for—if he hadn't _called_ me, I would have not known until I felt it. Eric, I would have never said goodbye!" snapped Vena.  
"At least _we_ got a goodbye," said Eric.

"Because _we_ cared to be here—!"

"Don't speak of things you do not know," retorted Eric, eyes flashing.

Vena sprang.

She was on Eric in a second, straddling him as she tried to punch him, fangs bared as she hissed and spat and screeched at him. Eric quickly grabbed her wrists, eyes narrowing in a twisted combination of fury and bewilderment as he saw how much she fought and twisted against his grasp, how much effort on his part it took to keep her locked in place. She had managed to open up a cut along his cheekbone. It was gone before she could even comprehend it or even regret it.

He looked furious, but in her rage and pain she didn't care. She could only yell at him, curse him for not contacting her sooner, for not getting there sooner. For not talking Godric out of it. And he let her. He let her until she was spent and could only cry. She collapsed against him, crying for their dead Maker, and Eric let her bury her face into his neck as she too wished she had met the sun. His hand twisted painfully in her hair as he clutched her to him, his own face resting in the juncture of her shoulder as they shook together. She was grateful for the physical pain. It grounded her.

The water pooling at her feet and rushing down the drain was pink as Vena stood beneath the showerhead. She was covered in blood—hers and Eric's—and though she knew she should scrub herself clean and carry on, she couldn't.

Gone.

The shower door slid open. Eric stepped in. He sighed as he took her in; she knew it was unfair to claim he felt nothing about the death of their Maker, but she envied his ability to compartmentalize. She felt at the whim of her emotions in that moment; utterly useless.

Eric moved until he stood just behind her, and he reached out to change the water temperature. She hadn't even realized it had been set to the coldest setting; probably why her skin wasn't losing the red stains of blood, the pressure only removing the dried flakes.

"He's gone." Vena said flatly.

"Yes," said Eric. He grabbed a washcloth and a bar of soap.

"He wanted to be gone,"

Eric paused. He was clearly struggling with this fact just as much as she was. He reached a hand to her shoulder and urged her to turn around. She did, facing him. He wasn't in much better condition than she was; his face and chest were covered in their blood, and his hair was disheveled.

He moved the bar of soap under the spray of the water, then moved it between her collarbones. Slowly, methodically, he began to move it in circles over her skin, washing away the blood and grime on her skin.

"Yes," he said finally.

He focused on washing her. Later, Vena would look back at the moment and it's profoundness. She would appreciate the care and gentleness he had taken with her, despite his own pain and loss. But there and then she could only stand there, reeling as she went over Godric's final moments.

" _Abominations_ ," she whispered to herself.

Eric's fingers were under her chin and roughly jerking her face up towards his in the next moment, eyes hard with anger. "We are not abominations. Godric did not think us abominations."

"But he said—"

"I was there," he said tersely. "I heard what he said. Godric did not mean we are abominations. Do not misinterpret his sentimentality for self-hatred,"

His eyes continued to burn into hers. Finally Vena nodded, though she was not entirely convinced. She took the bar of soap and washcloth from Eric. He let her, and so she too washed him. She started with his chest just as she had, then moved up his neck and carefully washed his face. She had to stand on her tiptoes to do so even when he leaned down towards her.

He watched her the entire time, but his thoughts were hidden from her. This time she was certain he was seeing her. Thinking of her even.

"Where will you go now?" Eric asked after she reached to shut the water off. He stepped out and grabbed them towels. He handed her a second smaller one for her hair.

"Who's to say I won't stay?" she murmured, wrapping her hair up. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. She hadn't looked so dead since, well, her first death. Eric came up behind her, maybe noting the same thing.

"You don't much like the States. At least, not most of them," said Eric as he wrapped the towel around her. "I remember. So, where will you go?"

"I don't know. I never do," admitted Vena. Wherever her next lead took her, usually.

"You will stay for the arrangements? Unless I'm mistaken, you have a room at Godric's compound,"

"I'll stay long enough," agreed Vena. Eric hummed.

"He would want you with me. For a small while, at least,"

"I'll spare us both and say _no_ , _thank you_ ," scoffed Vena. She moved out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Go to Louisiana, with Eric? She nearly laughed. Not only did she know she'd despise the state, but she also knew that as soon as the shock of Godric's death passed they'd be back to their usual ways: at each other's throats. Often and literally.

"You should take some time and consider it, all the same," said Eric, entering the bedroom after her. She admired that even in death, Eric would do all he could to please their Maker. But she knew as well as he did that he wasn't doing so happily.

"I have my affairs as you have your own, Eric. No need to play house." She moved to the closet, unsurprised to find that no matter for however brief Eric had expected his stay to be, his clothes had been carefully hung. She found a suitable tank top of his and slipped into it. She checked herself in the mirror. Eric was lean and liked his tanks unmercifully tight; it fit her well enough to pass as a tank dress. She'd just have to find shoes.

"Is there a gift shop? Stores?" she asked absently, moving towards the telephone on the nightstand. Next to it was the hotel registry.

"You never did mention why you were naked," said Eric.

"I wasn't in the position to carry much,"

"Not even the clothes on your back?" Eric said doubtfully. She ignored him as she dialed the phone.

"Yes—I was hoping I could have an outfit sent up to the suite. Anything, preferably in black. Small. Yes please, in an 8. No thank you. Yes. Charge it to the Northman account, yes. Thank you,"

"You and Compton," Eric muttered under his breath.

"Compton?" Vena repeated absently as she dialed a new number.

"A…guest of mine," said Eric. Vena pursed her lips as she waited while the phone rang.

"The one with the human? That came to help Godric?" she asked. "You asked a human for help?"

"She is…special," allowed Eric.

"The one from the roof?"  
He hummed in the affirmative. Vena's brow furrowed as she tried to recall her. Blonde…in a sundress? She hadn't been paying all that much attention. Even now she wasn't entirely bothered to press Eric for more details. Eric to ask a human for details? Strange.

"I—"

" _Vena? You didn't return before sunrise, and you weren't answering your phone. Rude of you to give me such a fright_ ,"

Aware of Eric's fondness for prying, Vena angled herself the edge of the bed so that he could not see her face. She switched to Chinese for good measure.

"Duìbùqǐ," she apologized. "Wo zai Dallas. Wǒ de fùqīn sǐle."

" _Shénme? Vena?"_

She hung up, unwilling to say more.

"You speak Chinese?" said Eric. She could hear him dressing somewhere behind her.

"With my Chinese friends, yes," said Vena.

"He spoke English first. Australian inflection, I believe."

Vena turned, finding Eric staring at her as he zipped up his boots. He was very clearly wanting to know what she was talking about and with who. She remembered now something she had always despised about him. He had always lorded his age over her, the fact that he was Godric's first Progeny. He had demanded her respect having seldom earned it, and he had always acted entitled to answers to questions he had no right to ask.

"Right," he finally said with a roll of his eyes. "Your business is your own,"

A knock at the door. Vena rose to answer it, but Eric beat her to the door. She noticed he was tense as he listened for a moment. Vena did too; she heard only a beating heart. Hotel staff with herm';

clothes?

"Eric? It's uh, it's me. It's Sookie."

Eric's posture slackened, and he glanced back at Vena. He opened the door, letting the blonde in. She was a pretty girl—young, though Vena thought she might have been older than she had been before her death. She was gentle in her movements, and her brown eyes kind and full of sympathy as she beheld Eric. Just as Vena began to wonder what the connection between the two of them was, she was struck by something incredibly powerful.

She was up in an instant, breathing in the blonde's scent. It was mouthwatering and sweet—she could barely recall honey and sugar anymore, but she thought maybe now she remembered what it had been like. Her fangs popped out of her gums in excitement—she hadn't ever come across such a delicious— And yet there was something incredibly familiar about that scent, like an infant memory.

"What _are_ you?" she asked, dazed by the tantalizing smell of her. It occurred somewhere in the depths of her mind that she should step away and control herself. She hadn't fed in days—too many for the young vampire she was—and she'd exerted too much energy and cried too much blood since then—but she couldn't help herself. She was quickly devolving to her baser instincts as the sweet scent of the blonde filled her nose. "Just a taste—"

Vena whimpered, finding herself pressed into the wall furthest away from Sookie, Eric leering over her with fangs drawn and his hand tightly around her neck.

"We don't eat Sookie," he told her simply. "Vena. Vena, look at me,"

"But—"

"Vena," said Eric, his hand tightening fractionally. "You will not feed on Sookie."

"What is she?" she managed from around Eric's hand. She tried to keep her eyes on the pretty blonde, but Eric's towering frame made it impossible. She hardly registered the look of fear and discomfort. Her focus was on that ambrosia-like blood— _bloodbloodbloodblood._

"Ravenna," snapped Eric. This time his hand tightened painfully, and her eyes flickered to his. She stared up at him through her lashes, aware of the conflicting emotions bubbling up in her. The pain of hunger, the excitement of being so close to a beating heart, the desire for that sweet, sweet blood—but it wasn't the only desire. Desire was also beginning to coil low in her belly, and she frowned up at Eric through her lashes as she registered it. Eric's expression change from annoyed to a smug smirk; his eyes flitted down her body, pausing on her nipples where they had pebbled under his tank top.

"I think I like you in this position," said Eric, flexing his hand just a little. "And I think you like it too." He reached up and tweaked one of her nipples. She snarled at him, batting his hand away. He let her, stepping back, that infuriating smirk still present on his features. She was so irritated with him that she'd forgotten the delicious-smelling human in the room; perhaps that had been his intention. Her head was clearer now. She retracted her fangs.

"Um, I just wanted to express my condolences," said Sookie. Her eyes were primarily on Eric, but they occasionally flitted back to Vena. Vena wasn't sure if it was in weariness or curiosity or both.

"Thank you," said Eric. He had sobered up once more.

"Was it…it didn't take too long, did it?" asked Vena.

"He…I don't think he suffered too much," Sookie said gently. Vena nodded, finding her eyes becoming suspiciously prickly all of a sudden. Even this human had been there more for Godric than she had.

"I didn't really know him, but," Sookie smiled at the two vampires sweetly. "He seemed like a really, really good vampire. I'm real sorry for your loss,"

Eric could only nod. Someone knocked again, and again Eric beat Vena to the door. She thought he might still be on edge thanks to the last few days. This time it was the hotel staff with her things, and he tossed them to her. She was changed so fast into the clothes Sookie was left reeling; one minute Vena was standing in only what was unmistakably one of Eric's tank tops, and the next she was in a pair of black pants and a black fitted t-shirt with the Hotel Carmilla's logo over her right breast. Her hair towel was lying on the bed—she was sure to get an annoyed comment from Eric, he hated wet towels on the bed—and turned to Eric.

"I'm going to the bar. However, as you saw this morning, I wasn't exactly carrying a wallet on me," said Vena, holding her hand out, palm up. Eric rolled his eyes, but he reached for his wallet all the same, pulling out a few bills.

"There are blood donors in the back lounge," he told her. "They're not particularly alluring, but they are fresh,"

"I'll stick to the synthetic stuff for tonight," said Vena. At his look, she sighed. "I might just tear someone's neck open if I do have to feed now, Eric."

"There's blood in the mini fridge," he said. She snatched the bills from his fingers.

"I want space," she said. He grunted, tracking her movements until she was out of the door. She paused, turning just enough so that she could see Sookie.

"Thank you. Sookie," she said quietly. Sookie nodded, smiling sadly at her. Then Vena was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**3\. Eric Northman Is An Overbearing Ass But Not The Only One**

"Preference?"

Vena frowned at the bartender. Her preference was a human with a pulse. Sweet, hot, thick blood that just well up in the puncture marks her fangs left behind, shot hot with the thrill of lust and fear—She _really_ needed to feed. Fast.

"Just whatever you've got. Leave the bottle,"

The boy behind the bar smiled grimly at her, removing the tall martini glass he'd set in front of her. He replaced it with a tall bottle of Tru Blood. Then he was on his way, moving down the bar to help other patrons. Vena began to drink.

Starving as she was, she took her time on the bottle of synthetic AB. Like the others, she'd had a few years to acclimate to the taste. Yet her instinct was to spit up the synthetic shit and go find a human, willing or unwilling. But those was her fangs talking, not her brain, and so she curbed the urge with all the restraint she could muster. She regularly fed on humans, and though she'd since learned to control herself, she didn't trust herself now. It wouldn't be the first time that she'd been so consumed by her own emotions during a feeding that she'd snap out of her daze with a dead human in her lap. If Eric hadn't been present, she doubted she would have been able to stop herself from tasting the pretty blonde in the sundress upstairs.

 _Tasting_ was a kind word.

Just the thought of that deliciously sweet scent caused her fangs to tingle. There had been something so profound in that scent. She had the feeling that the scent couldn't even begin to compare to the taste. Likely, the blonde's blood had dimensions, complexities beneath the sweetness… Squaring her jaw, she raised the bottle of Tru Blood in the reflection of the long mirror behind the bar, toasting her reflection. Tru Blood it was.

 _Control it is_ , she told herself. Her Master had spent so long teaching her to curb her primal urges; she would not dishonor his memory now, especially not if it risked the very human that—

She went to take another sip when she smelled it again. _Her_. She stiffened, glancing over her shoulder just long enough to find the blonde girl a few feet away, watching her. Sookie Stackhouse offered her a weak smile, gesturing timidly to the barstools next to her. Vena flashed her a humorless smile meant to show that her fangs were in and would stay in, then returned to her drink.

Sookie took a seat, though she kept an open stool between them. It did nothing to dampen the strength of her ambrosia-like blood. There it was again; sweet, enticing…and just a hint familiar. Still Vena couldn't place the familiarity. It was like grasping at the fast-fading tendrils of a dream upon awakening. She realized the human was speaking.

"Godric…he saved my life," Sookie said quietly. "And I want people, well, since _you're_ his people I guess…I think you should really know that. He was a good vampire."

"He was the greatest," said Vena sharply. Her eyes shot to the blonde. Sookie Stackhouse, pretty blonde doll with a scent like honey and a charm to match. Humans would ask how she had gotten mixed up with vampires. Running her eyes over her little red and white sundress… Vena could see the appeal. The girl was vampire bait.

"Why are you here?" she asked. "I see you have some… _bond_ with Eric. But you owe me nothing."

 _But you may owe her_ , thought Vena bitterly. _The human that helped his escape, that stood with him at his end. The human that was there when you were not._

"I do _not_ have a bond with Eric!" Sookie exclaimed. She appeared flustered, cheeks darkening a succulent pink that did not help Vena's self control; Sookie, embarrassed, looked down. Vena's eyes were on her blushing cheeks and then on her lips. They too had flushed and Sookie's top teeth were biting down on her bottom lip, drawing a deep ruby flush to the flesh. One small slip and blood was sure to spill. Vena found herself leaning in, on the edge of her seat, mesmerized by the scent. If Sookie's lip split, there was no way to know what she would do. A single kiss; a single peck on the mouth to thank her for her services and all it would take was the nick of a fang—

" _Fuck_ ," Vena whispered under her breath, so quietly Sookie did not even hear her. This girl was not human, it was impossible; this was starting to become ridiculous. She couldn't remember a time she had been so tempted and tested for control over herself.

Sookie glanced up at her then, seeming to realize the spell that that had fallen over Vena. She swallowed thickly; Vena traced the gentle flex of her neck, the slope of creamy skin.

 _Control yourself NOW._ Vena blinked; the voice had sounded like Godric. With the speed and grace befitting her kind, Vena was sitting back as far from the extraordinarily tempting girl. For good measure, she actively stopped breathing. Realizing that people in the bar were still staring and that this wasn't helping calm Sookie down, Vena bared her fangs at them all. Apart from newborns on the premises, she was easily one of the younger currently in the Hotel Carmilla, but they knew her to be the grieving progeny of Godric, their former Sheriff. They looked away.

"Well—he tricked me into drinking his blood, yeah, but—but I'm not his. I'm Bill's," continued Sookie, eager to repair the rift that had sprung up. Vena observed her reaction carefully.

"Safe to say you're already dreaming of him, then?" said Vena. Her index finger found the drops of water that had dripped from her still-wet hair onto the bar top. She raked the tip of her finger through the drops, creating a pattern.

"I hate him," said Sookie. But her heart wasn't in it. "I guess I want to. But seeing him so…vulnerable. There's more to him than I thought, and I didn't think much of him to begin with,"

Vena put her lips to her Tru Blood to avoid answering immediately. She was surprised to find that the human was even remotely resisting Eric. Eric Northman was a magnetic force; she wasn't aware of many humans that didn't automatically fall prey to his charms. Even many vampires couldn't help it, instantly charmed by his charisma, whether it be romantically, sexually, or platonically. It didn't help he was a master manipulator and could play humans and most vampires like a maestro could his instrument.

She thought about earlier that evening. When she'd attacked him and he'd let her. When he'd let her cry into his neck and make a mess of them both. He had cried, too. Then he'd bathed her with the care of a Maker with his fledgling Progeny. As much as she knew that there was, as Sookie had said, a _vulnerability_ to him, it was difficult for Vena to reconcile with her own conflicted feelings about him and the decades of history they shared. Eric Northman was certainly a complicated character, she'd give Sookie that.

"Yeah, he's multifaceted like that," said Vena. "Doesn't explain why you're here now."

Sookie cocked her head to the side, like she couldn't really believe Vena was asking her such a question. "Well because—you're hurting,"

Vena paused, bottle halfway to her lips. She watched Sookie for a long time. Then she laughed quietly to herself. " _Special_ ," she repeated Eric's description of the human. "Special indeed."

Sookie smiled curiously at her, looking unsure of herself. She could feel the girl was burning with a thousand and one questions for her, but they were soon interrupted.

"Sookie—Vena?"

Human and vampire both turned to the approaching vampire. Bill Compton had a look of surprise etched on his handsome features as he came up to the two, though Vena didn't miss the way he stepped closer to Sookie and touched his hand to the middle of her back. While the gesture was clearly one of deepest affection for the human, it was also a casual claim as a vampire. Noted.

" _Bill_ Compton," said Vena, suddenly remembering Eric's derisive 'You and Compton' comment. She hadn't even connected it to the Southern vampire.

"You two have met before?" said Sookie, looking between the two of them.

Vena dragged her eyes away from Bill and onto Sookie. Seeing the surprised, if mildly uncomfortable look there, she shrugged. Her eyes met Bills briefly. "Our paths crossed,"

"London…'83, I believe," said Bill when Sookie glanced at him curiously.

"Oh—Oh. So you um were you two ever um…?"

"I sincerely hope not,"

They all turned to find Eric approaching. His hands were in his pockets as he strode over with that casual prowl of his. "Although Vena always did have…questionable taste,"

"Eric," greeted Bill. Vena observed the frosty air between the two vampires. Or at least, in Bill's direction. Eric appeared pleased with himself. She remembered Sookie had explained that she had been tricked by the Viking into taking his blood, and that she belonged to a vampire named Bill. She quickly put two and two together.

Eric came to a rest next to Vena, draping his arm on the bar next to her. His nose twitched in the direction of empty the Tru Blood. "Like I said,"

"Reminiscing, are we?" he continued, uncaring of the tension he had caused. Vena knew he was likely basking in it. He was a bit of an ass like that.

"Not really," said Vena. She signaled for another Blood.

"Sookie and I will be returning to Bon Temps," said Bill, eyes on Eric. "I believe our services are no longer needed,"  
"Yours never were," reminded Eric. Bill looked like he wanted to snap Eric's neck clean in two, but he smartly reeled himself in.

"All the same. I have booked passage with an Anubis shuttle for Sookie, her brother Jason, and myself," said Bill. "We leave just before dawn."

"I will know," said Eric, his eyes on Sookie and a sinful smirk quirking his lips.

"You can't go even two minutes without being an insufferable ass, can you?" said Vena. Bill's eyes widened fractionally as he looked at Eric for his reaction. Vena could sense his surprise when Eric appeared amused more than anything. So he didn't know of their relationship, did he?

"I couldn't let you have the monopoly on being insufferable, now could I?" he returned. Vena scoffed and started on her second Tru Blood. She wiped her mouth.

"Safe travels, then," said Vena. "Circumstances aside, it was nice seeing you again Bill, and meeting you, Sookie,"

"You'll be seeing more of them, I'm sure," said Eric. At Vena's questioning glance, he elaborated. "They both reside in my Area,"

Vena's eyes narrowed. "I told you I'm not coming,"

"I'm telling you now you don't have a choice,"

" _Jag hagar dig_ ," she hissed. _I hate you._ Eric quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Petulant," he told her.

"I'm not going to Louisiana, Eric. And you can't make me,"

"Not that this is up for negotiation," said Eric, taking the half step between. She had to crane her neck a bit to meet his eyes. "But we will discuss this elsewhere."

Vena bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping at him. She'd forgotten how easily Eric could push her buttons, and she was already getting sick of it. There was playful banter, and there was this, where he needled her very carefully. Not that she was so innocent in this herself. Still, her eyes flashed.

"You are not—"

"Not here, Vena." Eric said. His tone rang with finality and the authority of his thousand years, and Vena bit down a growl. He wasn't her Maker, but he was her vampire brother, and he was much, much older than her. Even if she didn't want to listen to him, the blood in her veins recognized him, and its instinct was always to surrender to his will.

"Vena is Eric's sister," Sookie was saying quietly to Bill. "Did you know?"

"I was unaware," admitted Bill.

"It's because when you meet him, Eric has the swagger of a spoiled only child," said Vena.

"You wound me, little sister," said Eric. This time Vena did growl.

"I'll see you at the compound," she told him curtly. Then she exchanged a final goodbye with Sookie and Bill. Bill expressed his own condolences for her Maker, and then she was soon on her way.

It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she knew that there were arrangements to be made at Godric's compound, and the responsibility would fall on her and Eric as his progenies.

The compound was eerily silent when Vena arrived. A team of humans had made quick work during the day to cover the fallen walls with tarps and emergency support beams erected to stop the top floor from concaving in fully. The foyer and the sitting room had taken on the brunt of the explosion; judging by the extent of the damages, the bomb had been made by an amateur. Still, from what Vena had been told, it hadn't been an entirely unsuccessful attempt. Vena paused by a flipped and tattered coffee table. With the toe of her flip-flops, she nudged a silver locket to the side. Curious, she stooped down and grabbed the thin silver chain it hung on.

The silver burned, but the chain was thin enough that the pain was manageable enough. Opening the locket was another thing. She hissed as the silver left an oval imprint on her thumb, and she waited a second as the skin healed. Then she studied the pendant.

Inside was the picture of a smiling woman. She was young, maybe in her thirties, and with a bright, stunning smile. Engraved on the other half of the locket were the words: 'Never Forget: Mother & Wife. Ava Greene'.

Had someone really donated such a precious trinket to would and possible kill a few of her kind? Godric had told her to learn from the sentiment of humans; where was that sentiment now?

"Vena!"

Vena turned around to find Isobel striding towards her. Isabel reached for her hand, squeezing it tight as she kissed both her cheeks. Vena was careful not to let the silver necklace touch Isabel.

"I am so sorry, Vena," said Isabel. "Godric… he meant so much to us all. You know that,"

Vena offered her a weak smile. She had always admired Isabel. She was a strong vampire, but more importantly, she was wise. She had an uncommon understanding of humans and human emotions. And she was loyal. She had always trusted and respected Godric as though he were her own Maker. But that had always been Godric; he had a way of commanding vampires. He did not demand authority, but he always attracted respect anyway and inspired loyalty. Maker or not, Vena would have followed him anywhere. Then again, she had been willing to do so even before he had turned her.

"I'm sorry for you too. Eric told me about Hugo,"

Isabel sighed, moving to perch against edge of an upturned couch. She smoothed down the material of her pants as she looked around the room. Finally she met Vena's gaze. "It is a difficult betrayal to swallow," said Isabel. "He was not only mine… I was his. I thought I was his. I loved him."

Love. Vena had struggled with that word even as a human. Girls her age had been signing their hearts and ring fingers away to boys heading off to the war. Vena had barely even been able to be attracted to boys; she remembered the rumors that had swirled regarding her sexuality and her mother's immediate efforts to find her a sweetheart. Sexual attraction came easy; romantic did not. If she were to love someone, she wondered if it could be a human. They were so…well, _human._ Breakable. Fragile.

"I must apologize for not calling you sooner. Had I known…" Isabel smiled sadly. "Well, perhaps not even then. I do not know. Godric had left explicit instructions that you were not to be summoned while you were away."

At this, Vena frowned. She understood that Isabel did not go against Godric's orders. He was her Sheriff, and she had simply been following orders. Perhaps mistaking her frown, Isabel continued.

"Even Eric. I spoke to him about calling you. He said I was to follow Godric's commands as he had given them," Isabel paused. "I think he did not wish to worry you,"

Vena scoffed, shaking her head. Eric liked to be in control. He'd not wanted her around because she would have fought him on every issue. And she would have; she wouldn't have trusted this to humans, no matter how _special._ She would have gone alone, sticking the shadows and slinking around until she'd found her Maker. No human would have stopped her, only a Maker's command… but there was nothing to do about it now. She pushed her regrets out of mind.

"I hear congratulations are in order, Sheriff," Vena said instead, flashing Isabel a grin. Isabel smiled.

"A great honor to have been chosen by Godric. But," admitted Isabel. "I wonder if he made the right choice. Everything that has happened with Hugo… not all the vampires in our Area believe Godric was wise in allowing him free. Most wanted his death at the very least. And Stan… well, you know Stan."

She did know Stan. He was arrogant and brash, and she had butted heads with him often. Stan had a way of getting under her skin that was uncanny; not even Eric Northman was so gifted. Eric teased her and knew how to rile her up, enjoying pushing her until she gave up on the verbal arguments and sprang on him instead. But with Eric there was always playfulness, of sibling discord. Stan simply activated her murderous side. There was nothing playful about it. She wasn't surprised that Stan was already posing a problem for Isabel; he had always been power hungry, and had lusted after the position of Sheriff for decades.

"You already know you have my support," said Vena. "What are the others saying?"

"The others are hard to read. They respected Godric, so I think I have their support. But Stan has his cowboys. They are what worry me. He was already able to get them to attack the Fellowship once. Only Godric was able to stop them,"

"You have the support of the Authority," said Vena. "Even Stan can't stand against that."

Neither vampire felt particularly reassured by her words. Vena excused herself and went up to her room.

Vena's bedroom was on the far end of the compound on the second floor and had therefore remained untouched by blast. It was still immaculately well kept thanks to the maid service, though nothing had been moved from where she had left it when she'd left an odd year or so ago.

She hadn't liked Dallas, but Vena had liked her room here at the compound. It had felt safe, a word she wasn't used to using to describe anything other than her Maker. But with him gone, she found no emotional tie to the room. It did not feel welcoming as it should have been after all that time away. It did not feel like home, because her home was forever gone. That thought in itself was crushing, and the wave of sadness that had washed over her quickly manifested itself into restlessness. She would get busy; if this no longer felt like home, that would simply make all of this simpler anyway.

A quick scope of the room found that she was right; her disinterest aided her greatly in separating her belongings into two categories: what she would keep, and what she couldn't give a damn about. The first category was significantly larger, consisting of a few books, a Stradivarius violin older than she was, and a few dresses that Godric had either gifted her or liked to see her in. It was quick work, especially at the speeds she moved, and soon she had it all packed away carefully in a trunk. She had no idea where she was going next; she was still intent on her mission for revenge, if not keener than ever. Vena supposed she could go to Italy, recoup and plan her next steps there. _Villa Viola_ was now the closest she had to home.

Vena thought of this as she changed from the clothing from the Hotel Carmilla into something of her own: black jeans and a violet shirt. She tucked the loose silk into the band of her jeans, admiring the high-rise pants for a moment. This would perhaps be the one things she'd miss; there was a boutique in Dallas that made fabulous jeans.

It was as she contemplated buying out the boutique as an investment that her ears picked up a commotion. She cocked her head to the side, her mostly dry hair falling her face. That didn't sound good.

She went to investigate.

It was Stan. Of course it was fucking Stan. He was standing on a coffee table, addressing the nest. Vena slipped into place next to Isabel. The atmosphere was incredibly tense, nearly stiflingly so.

"What is going on?" she asked, though she kept her eyes trained on Stan apprehensively.

"Stan and his cowboys," she said back, nearly inaudibly as she too watched him in concern. "They are making a move; he wants Sheriff,"

" _What_?" she hissed. Then again, she should not have been surprised. Everyone knew that he had been after the spot for decades, though with Godric he had never stood a chance. Godric would have ended him with the same effort a lion would exert to take down a wounded gazelle. She scanned the faces of the other vampires, some new some familiar, trying to gage their reactions. Most appeared apprehensive; a few open to the possibility.

"…and it was her human that betrayed us!" Stan pointed an accusatory finger at Isabel. Isabel's fangs dropped, but she did not move. "Her human that led those children to attack our nest. You want her as your Sheriff?"

"But _Godric_ chose Isabel," called out Matthias. He was a young vampire, only a decade or so years old, but Vena remembered that Godric had taken a liking to him. Stan bared his fangs at him, taking a threatening step forward, standing just on the end of the coffee table. It was a wonder it didn't tip over.

"You're siding with her, then?"

Matthias looked uncomfortable. Even as a vampire, he was an artist, not a fighter. His eyes flicked to Isabel, then Vena. They returned to Stan, and he squared his shoulders a bit.

"Even Nan Flanagan approved," said Matthias.

"I don't care what that TV bitch said. Godric is dead. The Fellowship is still close. We need a strong leader. I can be that leader," called out Stan, looking about the room once more.

Isabel finally stepped forward from the ring of vampires, her arms still tightly folded across her chest. But Vena could see she was incredibly tense, like she might be attacked any second. And she might; there was a very good chance that this would end in a fight. Vena suddenly wished she'd followed Eric's advice and skipped the synthetic blood in favor of something straight from the source. Eric—where was he?

"You have always been jealous of Godric. Always coveted what was his. He chose me, Stan," said Isabel. A murmur of agreement went on behind her; Stan's face hardened. He jumped off the coffee table and strode right up to Isabel, getting right into her face.

"There's only one way to settle this, then," he sneered. A nervous chatter wracked through the nest. Isabel was a little less than two hundred years Stan's junior, and she stood little chance of winning this fight. With Godric gone, Stan was the oldest vampire in the nest.

Vena's blood began to sing and hum with the excitement of an oncoming fight. She could practically taste it in her mouth, tart and causing her jaw to tingle and her fangs to extend. After the last twenty-four hours, she was ready for a fight. No, she was _lusting_ after one. Her restless energy was simmering, having found a potential outlet.

"With everything that has happened, we should be showing a united front. Not bickering about ourselves like children. As you said, Stan, the Fellowship is still out there. We cannot stand divided now," said Isabel. She had always been one for diplomacy; that had been what had caught Godric's eye about her, Vena knew. He had always said she could learn a lot from Isabel. Vena would always agree with her Maker, but tonight she knew there was no place for diplomacy.

Tonight there would be blood.

* * *

 **Hi there! Big thank you to those that have reviewed, favorited, and followed!  
A few things:**

 **1) I know the chapters have been pretty short/filler-y (at least for my standards, anyway) and here's a longer one at just over 4k! Uni is letting out in a few weeks and I will have more time to put into this!**

 **2) Shameless self-promotion: check out my other Eric/oc fic; it's a lot different from this was one, but (i think) good all the same!**

 **3.) Any guesses to Vena's age? I have been deliberately unclear about that, but I made a big hint in this chapter. Any chance it matched up to your guesses?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Power Play**

 _"Dead!"_

 _Vena's head hit the patch of grass beneath her with a thud, resignation causing her to groan out loud. Eric smirked down at her, his hand still firmly around the metal stake pointed straight at her heart. The edge was blunt, digging just into her skin, but it was his smirk that annoyed her more than anything._

 _"Again!"_

 _Eric was off her in a flash, standing on the opposite side of the clearing. At her Maker's command, Vena jumped back up onto her feet, cracking her neck and wiping the back f her hand over her mouth. Blood smeared across her skin, but her lip had already sealed itself back up._

 _"You let your emotions rule you far too much, childe," said Godric. He was still perched where he had been all night, atop a boulder and overlooking his two children. Vena had been surprised when Godric had enlisted Eric's help so easily to help teach her how to fight; then she'd realized that her Vampire Brother was merely taking a great joy in knocking her down. Repeatedly._

 _"He keeps baiting me!" snapped Vena._

 _"Watch your tone when you speak to our Maker," returned Eric, his amusement fading quickly. Vena bared her fangs at him, the childish equivalent of sticking her tongue out at him._

 _"Peace, children," said Godric with a heavy sigh. "Eric is baiting you, yes. That is precisely why you must ignore his taunts. Unless you learn to harness your anger into a useful, driving emotion it will only continue to hinder you. Now, what did you do wrong, Vena?"_

 _Vena gritted her teeth as she glanced at Eric._

 _"I let him rile me up," she finally said. Godric nodded._

 _"Yes, but before that?"_

 _Choosing not to look at Eric's smug smirk, she cast her eyes down at the ground, thinking hard on the fight. She'd been finally getting somewhere… only to land on her ass._

 _"I don't know," she finally said despondently. "This is ridiculous anyway. He is a thousand years old and I am still in my first year!"_

 _"Oh we know," said Eric. "Your childish impulses and lack of maturity remain a nightly reminder,"_

 _"Eric," Godric called out warningly. "Vena, ignore him. Now tell me: what did you do wrong?"_

 _Vena sighed, folding her arms petulantly as she turned to face her Maker. But when she met his eyes she found that her fight was leaving her, and it was being replaced by shame. Yes, Eric was certainly taunting her, and she wanted nothing more than to be the one to land him on his ass for a change, but she was shaming Godric with her immaturity._

 _"I should have contracted when Eric expanded. I didn't take advantage when he left his sides open," she admitted quietly. Godric nodded his approval._

 _"Precisely. Your size might not matter against a human, but it will against a vampire, especially one that is far older than you. Therefore you must take advantage of what others will perceive to be your weaknesses. Now again, Vena."_

 _Eric dropped into fighting stance. Vena took in a deep breath and drew herself into position, batting down every emotion that would not aid her in this fight._

 _"I'm ready."_

"I'm a fan of the old ways," said Stan, grinning horridly in Isabel's face. "So how about we settle this like real vampires? One fight, winner is Sheriff, loser meets the True Death,"

Stan's group cheered in excitement; the rest of the nest hissed in apprehension and disbelief. It was rare that authority disputes were settled this way these days, especially with the Authority in play. Isabel stood a good chance of losing, but backing down would also making her look bad, if not worse. Stan knew this and was willingly backing her into a corner.

Isabel didn't have long to deliberate. Her arms unfolded, fists dropping to her sides.

"Very well, if this is to be, it is to be," she agreed. Vena did not.

"This is madness," Vena said loudly. Eyes were drawn to her. Stan sneered in her direction.

"Oh?" challenged Stan. "Let me guess, you want to go in the same vein as your Maker, being all diplomatic and shit?"

"Not at all," said Vena, stepping forward until she stood next to Isabel. "I just think it's insulting that Isabel must defend a position that is rightfully already hers. You are not challenging a transition or a vacuum of power, Stan; you are challenging a chosen Sheriff,"

"And since you're such a fan of the old way," continued Vena, trying with difficulty to keep her excitement out of her voice. "You should know more than most that Isabel, as the one being challenged, has every right to choose a proxy to fight on her behalf,"

Stan actually laughed; no one else dared to. He took a few steps back, raising his arms out wide to the nest as if to embrace them all.

"Sure, I know the old ways. Who's gonna fight on her behalf? Who is willing to die for Isabel?"

Vena took a step forward, cocking her head to the side. She licked her lips. "Well, Stan, I see was usual the obvious eludes you. I'm stepping forward,"

" _No_!" hissed Isabel. "Vena what are you doing?"

"Trust me," she snapped back.

"Oh, this is precious," drawled Stan. "Now _this_ is insulting to Isabel. You come from a strong line; I'll give you that. But I'm six hundred years old. I'm over six times your age, infant,"

"Then what's the problem?" challenged Vena.

"The problem is that if something were to happen to you, the Viking would rip off all of our heads," reminded Isabel.

That was the wrong thing to say. At the mention of Eric, Stan's expression changed. He was no fan of the Sheriff, particularly not after the way Eric had breezed in and taken control of the situation despite it not being his Area. Vena could see he relished the thought of destroying Eric's Sister.

"My Brother knows the old ways better than anyone here," said Vena, looking around at them all. "He knows he has no say, no right to interfere, just as he cannot interfere in this matter now," Her eyes returned to Stan. "The only head ripping happening tonight is when I snap yours off, Stan." Then, with an impish shrug she added, "I've always wondered what your neck looked like under that big head of yours,"

" _Vena_ ," bemoaned Isabel. It was too late. Incensed, Stan pointed at Vena.

"It seems your Maker never taught you respect, you little cunt," he snarled. Vena's fangs dropped at the insult to her Maker, and she started forward.

Isabel grabbed her forearm. Vena glanced at her, green eyes crackling. Isabel finally conceded, giving her a short nod. Isabel sank back into the ring of vampires, leaving Stan and Vena in the center.

Vena rolled out her shoulders, cracking her neck and summoning her focus, eyes never leaving Stan. He was glaring down at her with intense dislike, fangs bared. She cracked her knuckles, encouraging the hum of electricity that was zipping through her veins. She'd been lusting after a fight with Stan for years; now that she finally had the opportunity, she wouldn't make the mistake she had so often made in the past. She would not let her emotions rule her; they would fuel and empower her, but they would not be getting in the way. Not this time.

The vampires around them began backing away, forming a clear circle around them in the wreckage of the living room. She had the feeling it was about to get a lot worse.

Vena had a few advantages that none in the room knew about. Stan lost control often enough she knew his fighting style by now, though 'style' was a word she used loosely. He fought just as she suspected he had when he was human: relying on brute strength and intimidation. His strength she'd have to watch out for, but she planned on using his own arrogance against him. As much as she hated to admit it, she hadn't been so different from him once upon a time; she'd been easily baited, just as he was now.

Vena made a show of bouncing on tips of her feet, shaking out her fists. She angled herself a little sideways, then nodded at Stan, winking at him.

"Ready when you are, princess,"

That Stan charged at her was as predictable as the sun rising each morning.

Less predictable? Vena having ducked under his swing and sidestepped him. Stan was momentarily stunned, genuinely confused when he hadn't hit something solid. His eyes flicked over to her, and she winked at him. She saw his eyes narrow, though he straightened up, forcing a laugh.

"Fast little thing, aren't ya?" he taunted.

"Or you're just sluggish," said Vena with a shrug. "Must be the bad blood,"

Stan charged again, and again Vena dodged him, sparking fury as she stepped only a few feet away from him. Growling in frustration, Stan kept coming at her, only to be met with empty air as Vena expertly dodged left and right, over and under, always just out of reach.

"You little fuck!" growled Stan, turning around to find her perched on the corner of an overturned couch. Vena made a show of covering up a yawn.

"Oh come on, Mr. Senior Citizen," said Vena. "I thought you could keep up?"  
This time, when Stan charged, she didn't move away in the same manner he had been expecting. She steeled herself and met him, surprising him long enough that she was able to land a strong uppercut to his jaw. Stan stumbled back, eyes wide in shock. Murmurs went around the crowd of vampires, the only reminder that they had an audience.

"That supposed to be a hit?" snapped Stan.

"You know, for someone so desperate to be all about action, you talk _a lot_ ," called back Vena.

"Yeah well I'm done fucking around now!"

Stan grabbed the object nearest to him—a chair—and chucked it at her. It was so fast she didn't have time to move, only roundhouse kick it in two before it struck her. But Stan had only been using it as a distracting, and he was on her the next instant, grabbing her leg and twisting it, drawing a shriek of pain from her as he threw her.

Vena hit the brick fireplace wall, loosening a few as she fell to the ground. She cursed under her breath as she drew herself up against the fireplace, nearly falling over at her lame leg. Stan grinned darkly from across the room; she reached down and snapped her leg back into place.

Stan ran at her. Vena met him halfway, dropping down to slide across the floor at the last second, coming up behind him and popping a hard punch into his back. Stan stumbled forward, landing stomach first on the floor. Vena grabbed a broken chair leg from the chair he had thrown at her, pivoting and springing into the air, bringing the stake down. She landed on the floor, stake planted firmly into the floorboard, Stan having rolled out of the way. Using the stake, she swung her leg up, clipping Stan in the chin hard enough to send him flying up the floor. Vampires sprang out of the way as he parted the crowd. Vena and Stan were both back on their feet in an instant, breathing hard as they glared at each other from across the room.

"There's something not right about you. Always said it," said Stan.

"You're losing to an _infant_ and you pull that. Go figure," drawled Vena. Her leg was still paining her, not completely healed all the way through, but she was not going to let him see that.

"I ain't losing shit, little girl!"

Stan flew at her, surprising her with a burst of speed. He landed on top of her, snarling and fangs bared. She yelped as he got close enough to rake his fangs across her cheek, splitting it open.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

Both Vena and Stan tensed at Eric's thunderous voice. Still, Stan didn't give up the pressure he was putting on her.

"Stay out of it Eric!" called Vena. She rammed her forehead against Stand's nose, cracking through bone. She was showering with a spray of his blood and grimacing, she managed to use the moment of him struggling above her to throw him off. She flipped to her feet, dropping to a knee and closed fist as she watched Stan land. Behind her, she heard Isabel talking to Eric.

"Eric don't—Stan challenged me. Vena volunteered as my substitute!" Isabel was saying.

"And you fucking let her?"

Vena drowned out the squabble and cries of encouragement behind her—some for her, others for Stan—and focused on the vampire in question. The bottom half of his face was covered in his blood and his nose was starting to heal. She smirked. It was healing quite crookedly. If he survived the night, he'd have to break it all over again and let it set properly.

"Stop this _now!_ " roared Eric. Hearing him move forward, she glanced back at him long enough to snap at him.

" _Stay out of this Eric_!" she called back. Mistake.

Stan flew at her, a hand extended and swiping at her neck. Vena barely had enough time to roll back, Stan's nails nicking her neck enough that pain flared through her throat. She coughed, spitting up blood. But Stan wasn't finished. He grabbed her by the throat and through her up towards the ceiling. She barely managed to lift her hands before crashed through the ceiling; finger outstretched, to prevent her from breaking through it, she absorbed most of the shock their and then, ignoring the breaking of a few fingers, she pushed herself forcefully down from the ceiling.

With a foot outstretched, she landing heavily against Stan's chest, feeling his sternum concave beneath her boot. She hit the ground and rolled away, meeting Eric's eyes as she did.

There was fury there, and concern. And, just maybe, a hint of approval. She quickly looked away, unwilling to make the same mistake twice.

"You fucking bitch," coughed out Stan, spitting blood onto the floor. He slowly rose to his feet, shaking with ill-repressed hatred. "You're _dead_ ,"

Vena held her arms out, jeering, "Feeling more alive than ever, cowboy!"

Stan rushed her. Vena was ready for him; she was not ready for the silver dagger that was thrown over her head towards Stan, hilt first. Stan leapt into the air, deftly catching the dagger and bringing it down on Vena. She had just enough time to twist, crying out at the burn of silver slashing down her. The cries of outrage behind her went unanswered by her as she ducked and dodged the flurry of blows Stan was swiping at her. He nicked her shoulder—hot blistered flared up along the cut as silver bit through skin. But she let it; throwing herself into Stan's space. The closer she was to him, the harder it was for him to maneuver the knife. His arm was still extended, and she slammed her elbow into the tendons of his arm so hard something snapped and the dagger clattered to the crowd. He howled in pain, but Vena wasn't finished. She rolled under his broken arm, scooping up the dagger as she went, then popped up behind Stan, gripping his hair tightly with a hand. She brought the other to his throat.

Silence.

Stan went still, not daring to breath as she held the silver just against his throat, allowing him to feel its bite. Vena was breathing hard, pained, exhilarated. Furious. She met Eric's gaze; he appeared shocked as he looked on, but when he caught her eyes he quickly masked his expression.

"Do you relinquish any claim you may _think_ you have to the title of Sheriff, do you swear on the Blood that you will attempt no further action against Isabel or the nest, neither yourself nor by your constituents, Stan?" she asked.

"You proved your point! Enough!" called out a vampire. Vena's eyes flicked towards her; she recognized her as one of Stan's lovers. She ignored her.

"Stan?" she asked, gripping his hair tighter.

"You fucking cunt," he hissed through gritted teeth. "I'll quit when I'm dead."

Vena tossed the dagger just a few feet in front of Stan.

Stan let out a derisive laugh. "Knew you were too fucking weak! You're just like your human cock-sucking Maker! Weak! Sentimental! Too weak to—"

He didn't finish his sentence. Some of his followers cried out, shrieking as her hands came to either side of his head. With all her might, Vena twisted and pulled. Stan's headless body fell to the ground, exploding into vampire remains before it had even hit the ground. The head in her hands followed, covering her in a splatter of thick, cold vampire blood.

Wiping a thumb across her lip and then drawing it into her mouth, Vena lazily asked,

"So, did someone want to contest my victory? No? No one?"

* * *

 **Hi guys! Sorry for the wait, but I had finals through the third week of May and I've been in Europe since. I'm still in Europe, but I'll be able to post regularly. I have not abandoned this story, I've just been typing up a third True Blood fic I've been working on (on those things that starts simple enough, but has now become a slow burn fic with a sequel lol). Thanks to those that have stuck around! Special thanks to those that have reviewed and favorited/followed.**

 **Thanks 'Guest' for the reminder to post this ;)**


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